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ancestors
18 x 24
ancestors
by Harvey Ellis
my ancestors surround me
like walls of a canyon
quiet
stone hard
their ideas drift over me
like breezes at sunset
we gather sticks
and make settlements
what we do is only partly our own
and partly continuation
down through the chromosomes
my son
my baby sleeps behind me
stirring in the night
for the touch
that lets him continue
he is arranging
in his small form the furniture
and windows of his home
it will be a lot like mine
it will be a lot like theirs
black madonna
18 x 18
sold
la santissima muerte
34 x 28
memorial
35 x 29
madonna x 4
29 x 29
one blade of grass
16 x 14
sold
praying woman
32 x 21
rizpah
18 x 18
sold
holy cow pray for us
35 x 27
satan's gate
21 x 25
ancestors
18 x 24
ancestors
by Harvey Ellis
my ancestors surround me
like walls of a canyon
quiet
stone hard
their ideas drift over me
like breezes at sunset
we gather sticks
and make settlements
what we do is only partly our own
and partly continuation
down through the chromosomes
my son
my baby sleeps behind me
stirring in the night
for the touch
that lets him continue
he is arranging
in his small form the furniture
and windows of his home
it will be a lot like mine
it will be a lot like theirs
pope joan
17 x 18
Pope Joan
by Carol Ann Duffy
After I learned to transubstantiate
unleavened bread
into the sacred host
and swung the burning frankincense
till blue-green snakes of smoke
coiled round the hem of my robe
and swayed through those fervent crowds,
high up in a papal chair,
blessing and blessing the air,
nearer to heaven
than cardinals, archbishops, bishops, priests,
being Vicar of Rome,
having made the Vatican my home,
like the best of men,
in nomine patris et filii et spiritus sancti amen,
but twice as virtuous as them,
I came to believe
that I did not believe a word,
so I tell you now,
daughters or brides of the Lord,
that the closest I felt
to the power of God
was the sense of a hand
lifting me, flinging me down,
lifting me, flinging me down,
as my baby pushed out
from between my legs
Where I lay in the road
In my miracle,
not a man or a pope at all.
there is a crack in everything (that's how the light gets in)
27 x 27
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